Taos, New Mexico & The Enchanted Circle

So I think I interrupted the motel owner’s tryst with another man… it was right out of a movie. The lobby door was locked, I heard giggling and frolicking in a nearby room, and after ringing the doorbell and knocking a few times, a shuffling and a “hold on!” and finally the two of them show up, one guy smiling and the other (the owner) buttoning up his shirt and letting me in the building.

At least the room was cheap.

As, apparently, is the owner. 😛

But that seemed to be a perfect ending to this day. It has been quite… full. Since five o’clock this afternoon, I have walked through a ghost town, traveled to Colorado, put my feet in a lake (the first water I’ve been in for months), hiked up a hill while following the stations of the cross, eaten fantastic Mexican food in the oldest town in Colorado, and drove through the mountains while lightning illuminated the sky.

And that’s only a brief glimpse at some of this day.

It was a good day.

I woke up knowing that things needed to change. The woman I was staying with in Taos was a nice person, and I felt safe with her, but she was definitely a Debbie Downer. I have to give her slack, though, for her life seemed pretty horrific. From what I could piece together, her daughter was killed right in front of her, as was her dog, Ocito, who had been her companion for the last few years. She had traveled to South Africa, started her own charity, and had recently lost one of her best friends over there, to AIDS. So those are just a few examples of the weight she carried on her shoulders, so I can certainly understand that, but after being woken up by her in the middle of the night, as she cried, and I comforted, I realized that this might not be the ideal situation for me to get myself balanced.

Yesterday, I woke up, happy for a decent sleep (and my life) and headed over to the Taos Pueblo. Since Magellan told me to, I illegally drove through the Pueblo land, but luckily I didn’t get in trouble for it. Instead, I got to see how these people live, tucked away on their reservation, without water or electricity, and lots of dogs and horses walking around freely. Mostly, though, the drive was filled with empty desert land, beautiful in its simplicity and loneliness.

The Pueblo itself was gorgeous, even though I felt as though I were trespassing. A couple dozen people of the Pueblo have little shops, and they don’t mind the tourists, but the rest of the people who live there must be pissed! I know I would be. The entire purpose of living on the Pueblo is to maintain tradition and distance, and then suddenly you start charging people 10 dollars to witness this incredible life choice, and I don’t know… it would piss me off.

The Pueblo people really liked me, however. Especially… the men. Cheyenne, when I got home that night, said “yeah – they like the big, beautiful women.” I was initially going to be affronted by this comment, but then realized I was talking to a 5 foot one, 90-pound individual. She would probably be offended if I called her… squirt. So I let it go, and accepted the truth of it, because during my couple days in Taos, I think I had the potential for about five marriage proposals if I had just smiled one more time, or stayed a moment longer. It was nice, to feel so beautiful and mooned after, but it was… odd, since the culture I come from isn’t that way.

The winner for best ‘mooning after’ was definitely Joseph, however, He was a Pueblo man, who lost an arm a dozen years back while… carving a buffalo, or something. For some reason, it was as though I walked into his Pueblo and changed his life, because he lit up and hugged me for about… five minutes too long. After talking to me for a while, he also decided to bless me and my journey, so he lit a sage smudge stick and covered me in smoke and whispers. Wait, I made that sound too mysterious and sexy. It was definitely mysterious, and it was a beautiful Pueblo tradition he was allowing me to be a part of, but sexy it was not. Just to clarify. However, after this he asked me if he could take me to the mountain that night, and play his drum and sing to me the native music of the Pueblo people.

I mean, how could I turn that down.

But I did. I wasn’t about to put myself into another situation like that, however more innocent and authentic he seemed than Scott in Roswell. So I might have missed out on the most life-changing drum-filled spiritual experience of my life, but I had to let it pass.

I felt a bit of a stronger affinity to Cesar, who was a young man who worked in one of the stores in town. I didn’t notice him much at first, since I was enamored by all the beautiful jewelry, but eventually I needed to ask for his assistance, and we talked for quite some time while I was being wishy-washy about which pieces of jewelry I wanted.

In the end, I spent farrrrr more than I expected to, but not really since I had been waiting since Georgia to get to the Southwest and purchase the jewelry I wanted. I had wanted some inlaid jewelry (I expected it to be Zuni at the time, but the pieces I bought were Navajo, I believe), and I wanted some of the… green stuff. I think it’s just green turquoise, but I’m not completely sure. You think I would have learned the stones by now, but alas. I have not.

However, Cesar was extremely kind, and I didn’t think about him ‘that way’ until I was leaving and he said “see you tomorrow.” I turned around, and he said “Please?” I told him I wasn’t sure what I was doing, and I didn’t end up going back, even though I happened to drive by the shop today and was tempted. He was a good person, with intelligence and drive. He wasn’t what he initially presented himself as, and I liked that about him. He had definitely grown on me. But the last thing I want is to suddenly be stuck in Pueblo town.

Another fascinating individual I met was… well, Aspen something was his Native name, and I forget his real name… so I’m basically useless. But anyways, he was a 14-year-old boy from the Pueblo, who was selling the family wares that day with his grandma. They were such sweet people, and I bought a piece of inlaid work in the shape of a turtle, which his father, a master silversmith, had made. The boy, however, was fascinating, because at 14 he was one of the smartest, well-spoken individuals I have ever met, which is not just rare for the world, but extremely rare for this area of New Mexico. He painted cards, and was working on the Micaceous clay pottery, and was studying Law, and was basically a fascinating young man. I wanted to kidnap him and show him the world, and see what he had to say about it all.

Today was a tough one. I woke up, really unsure about what to do. All I knew was that I had to keep moving, and that the air had very quickly gotten stagnant while staying with Cheyenne, as interesting and kind as she was. So I packed up, and left Taos around noon.

The funny thing is, I left Taos again around five.
Haha.

The reason for this is that I drove the Enchanted Circle, an 80-mile loop around the Carson National Park area, which is wonderfully scenic, and drives through quaint little mountain resort towns. I especially liked Red River – it would be an ideal place to have a family vacation. There was even a ghost town, Elizabethtown, along the way, which used to be a thriving gold rush town, and is now essentially a shadow. Of course, I loved that… being surrounded by the history, with only remains acting as proof that anything was ever there. The woman working at the “museum” was really kind and gracious to me, and it was strange to be in the middle of nowhere, looking at old stuff. Really surreal experience, though, even if I’m not bothering to describe it very well. As I was driving out of the “town,” four horses were walking alongside my car.

That was fun.

And since the time between this morning and this evening, everything has changed. This must be the most life-filled day I’ve ever lived.

The most life-filled day I’ve ever lived. 🙂

Carlsbad & Roswell, NM & James Dean as he pulls her close by her scarf…

There are no words to describe where I am right now. Other than on the side of the road in the middle of New Mexico, 50 miles away from any town or gas station… and my tank is empty. Everywhere I look, the mesquite, cactus-covered desert plains are illuminated by the light of the full moon.

I started crying a little while back, but realized the futility of this, and started praying, instead. I know many of you would argue the futility of such an act, as well, but I have been shown otherwise in these past few months.

I started crying because my gas gauge was on empty, and my cell phone was receiving absolutely no service. I was driving at exactly 55 miles per hour, since my mother, as well as others, have told me recently that this is the exact best rate to be driving to get the best mileage (I thought it was 60). I figured they told me this for a reason, so I followed their advice. I started crying, however, when I realized that there was no gas stations for 50-70 miles in ANY direction, and that my cell phone had ZERO service. To top it all off, I’d like to add that it’s 2:45 in the A.M.

How I find myself in this predicament is a long, complicated, and useless story, so I’ll save myself the embarrassment, and you the time and pity.

If I have posted this entry, it means, however, that I have survived. So bully for that.

I hear the crickets, or whatever they are, outside my window, and a light, cool breeze is flowing into my car. Approximately a handful of cars have passed by in either direction. I couldn’t be much further away from civilization. Yet after a few prayers, my cell phone got service and I connected with AAA. I pulled over quickly to the side of the road and shut off my car, just as the gauge was dropping dangerously below the red line. I’ve kept driving forward for the past ten minutes, even though I knew that I would never make it to a gas station.

AAA should be here within the half hour, she said. I told her I was scared, and she sounded sincerely concerned. And then we lost service, so perhaps that will help her speed up the process.

A met a man in Roswell, New Mexico a few hours ago. I would like to blame him for the predicament I’m in, but it’s not really true. The truth is I’m an idiot. And even if I hadn’t spent hours talking with him, I probably still would have left Roswell without filling up. And after passing Roswell, the next station is around over 100 miles away. I’ve never experienced anything like that.

Earlier in our conversation, Scott (that was his name) had me hold out my hands, and he held his out above them, doing some sort of shakra-something thing. Then he looked at me, and said, “You’re more non-human than I thought.”

Which I suppose isn’t the strangest thing to hear in Roswell, NM.

He continued on to say I was an intuitive person, and we did end up having some fantastic conversation. The sort of conversation I needed – profound, soulful, and metaphysical. We talked about the things that matter, and how I should go after them. We talked about personal strength, and the ability to determine our own future and do what needs to be done to heal our souls.

On the other hand, he really freaked me out.

And now I’m abandoned on the side of an empty highway somewhere in the desert plains of New Mexico. In a way, none of that metaphysical stuff matters at this moment, but on the other hand, as the bluish tint of the sky twinkles and the haunting melody of the moon sing downs to me, that metaphysical stuff seems to be everything.

I’m not a normal person; I’m never going to be. I’m never going to be fulfilled by a good job and an even tan. I need to accept that, embrace that – no matter how people judge me for it. I need to live the life I was destined the live – the life that God gave me all the gifts to make a reality.

I thought typing might make the wait seem shorter, but I feel like I’ve been waiting a while now. I didn’t even check the time when she gave me the estimate.

Okay, it’s been about 20 minutes. Everything is still fine.

This really isn’t how I saw my day ending. I really had a fantastic day, up until the past couple hours. And even they weren’t that bad. I woke up in the Walmart parking lot (in my car, at least) actually refreshed, having gotten about 8 hours of sleep in my back seat. I bought some tasty goods from the local Cheerleaders outside the store, and I headed over to Carlsbad Caverns.

They were amazing.

What disturbed me greatly for about the first 30 minutes of my self-guided tour through the caverns was the fact that I couldn’t take it in. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how I looked at it, I was unmoved. Yes, I could admire its beauty, and the wow factor, but I couldn’t feel it. It disgusted me – about the world. That we are so bombarded with the fantastic – with the melodrama and hoopla of the entertainment world, predominately television/movies. Seriously, The Dark Knight had felt more awe-inspiring, and instilled a deeper sense of appreciation in me than million-years-old caverns whose beauty could devastate the unsuspecting. It made me sick, but mostly it made me terribly frustrated – I felt as one does when you are being adored by someone you can not feel anything back for – trying desperately to bring up the feelings, but they refuse to rise to the surface.

And I thought to myself – if I feel this way, and I am a very sensitive person, aware of the nuances of light and color and beauty – imagine how the rest of the world must be, especially the younger generation. Imagine how desensitized they must be from the air around them.

Randomly, I just smelled the scent of bat guano. The smell was almost overwhelming as you entered the cave entrance. Weird that it should come back to me right now. Perhaps I should have stayed in Carlsbad, but the local clientele worried me a little. Currently I’m hundreds of miles away from anyone, so that should relieve me. ::sigh::

I don’t know what I’m going to do. Between you and me, I still consider the futility of this life, and my wish that I did not have to continue it. The thoughts are few and far between, but they worry me, since I don’t want a future filled with such thoughts. I feel closer to making the decisions necessary (even if they are merely shiftings inside my soul) to change the course of my life, yet still I am not quite there yet. I am still too affected by other people’s opinions and feelings towards me. I still do not have the power necessary to be the person I know I can, and should, be. I could be… something great. I know this, and God whispers it to me, but my false sense of humility and fear barricades me.

30 minutes.

I’m getting tired. It’s 3 AM. I talked to grandpa around 6:00 mountain time, and he told me to get a hotel room. I should have listened to him.

One should always listen to Grandpa.

I’m going to watch Rebel Without A Cause while we wait.

Panda’s pissed.

* * *

Now it’s been an hour and a half. They called and said I can expect them in another hour and a half. I gave them my exact location – mile marker and all, and somehow that wasn’t good enough. They tried calling me, but I have no service. It only goes through every now and then. Some guy is driving from Santa Rosa to bring me gas. But that means he won’t be here until around 5 in the morning. I really can’t believe I’m in this situation. Strangely enough, however, I don’t feel anxious. I feel… calm. I’ve been watching Rebel Without A Cause. I’ve never seen it before. It sort of annoys me.

Anyways.

I don’t know what I’m going to do about my life. I want to go home, but as the girl in the movie just shouted, it “isn’t my home anymore.” I know I might have to become the black sheep of the family, since no one really understands me. But maybe that’s okay. Maybe being the black sheep will… allow me to breathe. I just need to get to the point where I’m comfortable doing that, without needing people’s approval. Even though I know that deep down I’ll always be waiting… waiting for people to be proud of me. Waiting for the people I love to recognize my talents, and say they are good. That I am good.

I wonder if I could have made it to Vaughn, NM with what’s left in my gas tank. Gosh, that would make me feel stupid. But I guess I’m supposed to be doing this. I’m sure there’s a reason.

I feel a cold coming on, too. My throat is really sore. I don’t know what I would do if I got sick on top of everything. I sort of want to go home – go to my bed, and sleep for a few days. Read a book. Take a walk. While at the same time, I can’t imagine being back there, driving those same streets, with all those memories… all that history.

I want to leave the history behind.

I’m surprised I’m not more tired. I woke up at 8:30, and spent about four hours walking through the caverns. My legs hurt, but I should be exhausted. I know this is going to catch up with me in the morning. I think I’m going to find a hotel and stay there for a couple days – recuperate. Try to figure out what the hell is going on.